


Life Long Thing

by dedougal



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Community: cottoncandy_bingo, M/M, Schmoop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-26
Updated: 2012-09-26
Packaged: 2017-11-15 03:06:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/522464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dedougal/pseuds/dedougal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are definitely some things Stiles never wants his dad to come home and see. His house taken over by lazy werewolves for one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Life Long Thing

**Author's Note:**

> For the prompt "snuggles". DazedRose asked for more pack fic. This is not that story.

Stiles hoped his dad never came home early. When he’d been younger, his dad used to drop in on his lunch break, back when he was a patrolman, and see that his mom and him were fine. Now he was older, Stiles realised that his dad was probably dropping home for a nooner some of the time and, yeah, that had the possibility of making him throw up a little in his mouth. These days, if his dad did come home in the middle of his shift – particularly a night one – he might just find a few more people in the house than he’d expected.

Scott was expected. During vacation time, he and Scott always spent the night at each others'. Even though Scott was working and dating and kinda had developed this life overnight, he still spent a lot of time at Casa Stilinski. Scott sprawled on the sofa with four other people, impossible to tell where one person ended and another began. All the betas, like some weird backing group, on his dad and his old beaten up sofa. It was a miracle that the springs hadn’t given out yet.

Yup. His dad wouldn’t really get it any more than he’d get why Derek Hale was sprawled in his dad’s armchair. That one didn’t belong to Stiles but he hadn’t been…okay he was plenty brave. He had stood up to countless teachers, innumerable bullies, psycho killers and Derek on numerous occasions. Too many occasions to count. But he hadn’t quite been able to tell Derek to not sit there. 

But with the werewolf puppy pile on the sofa (Erica looked really happy to be in the middle of all the boys as well) and Derek on his dad’s chair, Stiles was left playing host, passing bags of popcorn and drinks and generally ignoring the mess. He, pathetically, was contemplating the floor when Derek (oh thank you baby Jesus) pushed himself out of the chair and grabbed Stiles’ wrist.

“Come on. I want to show you something.” Derek’s mouth had twisted into that odd, rare smile, much more genuine than his toothy flirting grin or the wicked one he sometimes wore when… when they were doing things that his dad _really_ didn’t need to come home and find him doing. And now they were going upstairs. And that might lead to- Okay, Stiles was pretty much more than fine with Derek and him getting up to stuff but not while everyone else was in the house. That way lay only people finding him in compromising positions.

Stiles didn’t resist when Derek drew him into his bedroom. His resistance powers were really low when it came to Derek and his soft smiles and his persistent grip on Stiles’ wrist. “So, what are you…?”

Derek closed the door behind him and turned to Stiles. “I want to show you something.”

“You do realise you sound like Scott when he got his first pubes and felt the urge to overshare, right?” Stiles enjoyed the look of perplexed disgust on Derek’s face as he flung himself down on his bed and looked at Derek. “We’re going to miss the movie.”

“How many times have you seen _An American Werewolf in London_?” Derek even raised his eyebrow.

“Ballpark?” Derek huffed out his version of a laugh and then stripped off his t-shirt. Just. Bam! Naked Derek. Stiles might have thought positively about Derek’s shirt aversion in the past and enjoyed, but he still wasn’t used to all that naked glory in front of him and him having permission to touch. He was so caught up in admiring Derek’s perfectly sculpted chest that he missed the addition to start with. Then it became all he could look at.

“Is that…? That’s why you didn’t join the puppy pile on the sofa?” Stiles slid to the edge of his bed, fingertips out. He wanted to touch, desperately, but wasn’t sure, didn’t know…

Derek tugged down his jeans exposing the new tattoo for Stiles to examine at his leisure. “You can touch it. I wanted-“ Derek shrugged and Stiles knew he was embarrassed. “I didn’t want them to smell it. I wanted you to see it first.”

The curve on Derek’s back, his triskelion, is a symbol of everything he lost. Status, family, being outcast. Stiles still finds it hot. This tattoo- Stiles would object to being portrayed as Little Red Riding Hood if he didn’t deliberately go and dig out the red hoodie just to wind up Derek. He’d had it peeled off his body quite a number of very enjoyable times. The figure in red was quite abstract and appeared to be wrapped around a wolf. The wolf wrapped around the figure in turn was also quite abstract, all long limbs and red eyes and solid black. It had teeth. It should have been cute but there was something that suggested it was hard and dangerous. The whole thing was no bigger than Stiles’ thumb and it felt smooth and part of Derek already.

Stiles didn’t know what to say. Derek’s face had returned to the blank neutral he affected when he was trying to disguise fear or unease and Stiles saw right through it. "Shouldn't I be wearing plaid? You know. Since that's what I wear most of the time." Stiles grinned to show Derek he was joking. He scooted back on the bed until he was resting against his pillows. Derek followed him, kneeling above him and watching. Stiles pulled at his shoulders and Derek ended up coming willingly, curling around Stiles, for all that he was pouting slightly.

When they were finally settled, Stiles found his voice, although he kept it quiet and just between the two of them. “So when can I get a matching one?”

“When you are twenty one or when your dad isn’t likely to kill me.” Derek rolled his head back to look at Stiles. He seemed pleased.

“That’s- I don’t know when that’s likely to happen.” Stiles couldn’t help skating his fingertips over the tattoo again. Okay. His dad really better not come home now. He was totally going to abandon his guests and enjoy his own personal snuggle pile for a little while. The others would also need to find their own ride home.

Yeah. So Stiles was more than okay with his boyfriend using him as a pillow tonight.


End file.
